All of My Life
by Emily North
Summary: Draco works up the courage to propose to Hermione. ONE-SHOT DHr


All of My Life  
  
Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns all the characters. The music for the song "What Are You Doing the Rest of Your Life" is by Michel Legrand, lyrics by Alan Bergman and Marilyn Bergman.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Draco glanced around the room at the avid partygoers with a mixture of amusement and condescension. His father had always told him that any party that included muggles or mudbloods was automatically degrading and coarse, since all forms of conversation and entertainment would have to be lowered to their appallingly low standards. It was one more thing to add to the very long list of things about which Lucius Malfoy had been wrong. The place was packed with muggle-loving purebloods, half-bloods, muggleborns, and even a handful of muggles, and it was quite possibly the warmest, happiest, most enjoyable party Draco had ever witnessed. He had to admit; the Weasleys knew how to throw one hell of a bash.  
  
When Ron announced that he and Luna Lovegood were engaged, the Weasley twins had claimed that they were so shocked and delighted that any girl would be willing to marry their ickle brother that they'd sprung for the engagement party, themselves. Considering the success of their shop, it wasn't surprising that they were able to rent the Leaky Cauldron for the evening for the event. And what an event it was! All the most famous names from the wizarding war were in attendance, having what appeared to be the time of their lives. The party had been going on for four hours, and showed no signs of slowing down, much less stopping.  
  
Draco watched most of it from the corner. He was accepted and welcomed at the party, of course. With Mad-Eye Moody in charge of security *no one* had gotten in to the party who hadn't been invited. Draco had been one of the "good guys" ever since sixth year, when he turned against Voldemort. Although he had always accepted the dark wizard as his lord and master, it was quite another matter to accept him as a stepfather. When Voldemort announced that as a reward for providing such useful information on how to hurt Potter, Narcissa Malfoy would be given the privilege of marrying Voldemort and bearing his heirs, Draco's admiration for the Dark Lord turned to disgust, and then hatred when the obstacle of Lucius Malfoy was disposed of through a poisoned care-package from his traitorous wife. Draco had not loved his father, but he could not tolerate the way the man had been treated by the lord he had so loyally served, and the wife he had so foolishly trusted. In the final battle, when Potter faced off with Voldemort, Draco had faced off with his mother, and she had died at the end of his wand. It was only just.  
  
The members of the Order had been reluctant, at first, to credit Draco's conversion, while Draco's fellow classmates had flatly refused to trust him. In their defense, even after he had pledged allegiance to their side, Draco was just as snarky, conceited, and obnoxious to all of them as he had ever been. His behavior had not changed, just his alliances. He was on anyone's side who was against Voldemort. And if that meant that he would have to work with wizards he had always despised and ridiculed, then that's what he would do. He just wouldn't be pleasant about it. Tensions had grown through the whole of the first term and had exploded during the Christmas holidays, spent at Grimmauld Place, in a blazing row between Draco and Hermione which ended when she smacked him across the face and he responded by yanking her into his arms and snogging her senseless. Mrs. Weasley had to douse them with a bucket of ice water before they would stop.  
  
Draco and Hermione had been nauseatingly inseparable ever since. Harry and Ron had taken some time to come to terms with it, but even though the boys were utterly oblivious when it came to viewing Hermione as a girl with all a girl's needs and desires, they couldn't deny that Draco made her deliriously happy. They just didn't like thinking about what, precisely, he did to her in those hours the two of them spent closeted away to get that glowing look on her face, especially during seventh year when Hermione and Draco had shared the Head's suite and came down to breakfast every morning starving, sleepy, and blissfully content. As for Draco, he knew how much her friendship with Harry and Ron meant to Hermione, and since he would have been willing to shove his head into a lion's mouth if she asked him to, he made the (comparatively) minor sacrifice of being less antagonist to the boys, for her sake. Over time, Draco's relationship with Harry and Ron had resolved itself into sarcastic quips with very little bite behind them, and a quiet, mutual respect that they never publicly admitted.  
  
So Draco knew that he was perfectly welcome at this quintessentially Weasley celebration. As Dumbledore's protégé, Hermione's lover, and Ron's groomsman, he had every right to take part of the festivities instead of merely observing from the sidelines. But he still didn't feel quite comfortable being out in the center of the party. There was still a part of him, a small, heavily shielded part of him that only Hermione had ever accessed or understood, that couldn't believe that the cold, emotionally vacant life that he had led as his father's son was truly over. As a child, he had dreamed of friends who cared about him, and a warm, loving family, and he was more than a little afraid that he would wake up back in Malfoy manor and discover that this was just another of his far-fetched fantasies. He was afraid to get too close, afraid to enjoy it too much, for fear that it would all melt away.  
  
Acting in concert with that insecure part of his psyche was the much more publicly vaunted part of Draco that told anyone who'd listen that all the Weasleys and their friends acted like bloody fools when they were drunk, and that he wouldn't behave in such a manner for all the galleons in Gringotts that weren't already his. Of course, it didn't help that Mr. Weasley, in his deep and abiding love of all things muggle, had hired a karaoke machine for the evening. Ron, drunk off his arse, was up on the stage at that very moment, dressed up in brown leather trousers and a hideous green dragon skin jacket, looking like a tree on fire and sounding like a dying jackal as he serenaded his fiancé with a chorus of "This is Dedicated to the One I Love." Draco had no idea why Luna was smiling up at him so dreamily. As if his voice wasn't bad enough, Ron had also never heard the muggle song before in his life, and was making up the tune as he went. But Loony Lovegood looked as happy as if he had personally delivered a Crumple-Horned Snorkack to her, tied in a ribbon. Love for Lovegood, it appeared, was deaf as well as blind. Very deaf. And very blind.  
  
Love for Malfoy, on the other hand, had his eyes wide open so that he could see plain as day that Hermione was the most beautiful woman in the world. He couldn't stop the dangerously-close-to-goofy smile that crept over his face as he spotted her seated near the stage along with Luna and the others girls selected as bridesmaids, laughing at Ron's antics on the stage. He'd have to remember to slip some alcohol into her glass at every meal from now on. With her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkling from three glasses of champagne, she looked positively radiant. And she was his. Mostly his. Almost entirely his. Draco instinctively reached into his pocket to make sure the small box was still there. It was. It had been at hand practically every hour of every day for the past month. The only time he didn't have it physically on his person was when he was in the shower, and even then, he brought it with him into the bathroom, carefully hidden under a towel so Hermione wouldn't spot it. He'd been holding off, working up his courage and strengthening his resolve, but tonight was the night. He would finally ask Hermione to marry him.  
  
She would say yes. He knew she would. That is, he was nearly completely positive that she would. He was... mostly certain she would. He was... well, actually he was in a pretty sizeable panic over whether or not she would accept. That was why he'd been holding off on the actual proposal for a month. He'd found every possible way to stall, up to and including requesting and receiving permission for his proposal from her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley (who she often referred to as her wizarding parents), Dumbledore, Harry and Ron, Professor McGonagall, Hagrid, Hermione's boss at the ministry, Mad-Eye Moody, Remus Lupin, and Crookshanks (who had replied by licking his hand and then nipping his finger, an action which Draco interpreted to mean that he had the cat's approval, but if he ever hurt Hermione, he'd face the rest of his life with his eyes scratched out).  
  
When he sent an owl to Viktor Krum as Hermione's first boyfriend and continuing friend, asking for his approval as well, the amused seeker wrote back to him saying that if Draco didn't get off his arse and stop finding excuses to delay his long-awaited proposal, Krum would return to England and ask for Hermione's hand in marriage himself, just so the poor girl wouldn't have to wait any longer for a offer. The owl had arrived that morning and was the main reason that Draco had decided tonight was the night. He may have asked for Viktor's approval, but that didn't mean that he'd allow that smarmy Bulgarian within fifty kilometers of his Hermione until she had *his* ring on her finger. Krum would get an invitation to the wedding, of course, and till then, he could damn well stay away.  
  
It wasn't like he was delaying because he didn't love her. Merlin knew, he loved her more than he'd ever dreamed possible. He never thought the day would come when he would love anyone more than himself, but he had to admit, the bushy haired Gryffindor who had been the bane of his existence for so many years had possession of the entirety of his heart. And he was fairly sure that she loved him. She said she did all the time. She said she loved him when he brought her breakfast in bed, and when he surprised her at work, and when she woke up every morning, and just before falling asleep every night. She told him she loved him a dozen times a day and a dozen times more each night in his arms, but he still had trouble believing her.  
  
No one had ever loved him before, and he couldn't help thinking that any day now, she'd change her mind. She'd wake up and realize that she was bloody gorgeous (she never believed him, no matter how many times he told her) not to mention brilliant, charming, sweet, sexy and so damn irresistible that she could have any man she wanted just by snapping her fingers. She'd realize she could do better than him, and find someone who wasn't so arrogant, so snobbish, so ignorant about everything to do with muggles, not to mention so hopelessly inept in the kitchen. Someone who didn't pick senseless fights with her just because he thought she was cute when she got worked up. Someone who could tell her he loved her without stumbling over the words. She deserved someone like that, and he was deathly afraid that she would come to the same conclusion. Sometimes he wished she was shallow enough that his money, position, physical beauty and sexual skill would be enough to tie her to him, even as he admitted that it was her strength of character and complete *lack* of shallowness that had so completely entranced him.  
  
He'd ask her tonight, he promised himself. He really meant it this time. Honestly, he did. He'd wait until the party was over and they'd gone back to the apartment that they shared, then he'd kiss her as he undressed her, and when they made it to the bed and she was naked in his arms, he'd tell her that he loved her more than anything in the world, and that he wanted her to be his wife. Hopefully, she'd be horny enough at that point to say yes without arguing. With his mind in a haze as he imagined all the things he could do to every inch of her body all night long to thank her for accepting his proposal, he didn't notice when Ron finished his butchering of the song and Hermione took his place on the stage until he heard her sweet, unmistakable voice echoing out through the microphone.  
  
"Ron and Luna, I can't tell you how happy I am for you. I've been waiting for this engagement for years, and I'm thrilled that you've finally set a date, and honored that you've invited me to be a part of it. So to thank you, I'm going to do something you've been pestering me to do for weeks. Draco, this song is for you."  
  
Draco jerked in surprise as he heard her speech, accidentally spilling his scotch onto his previously immaculate suit jacket, and not even noticing. Hermione had a beautiful voice, but was *very* shy about singing in public. Draco had never heard her go beyond humming when she was outside of the shower. He watched, entranced, as she took a deep breath and waited for the music to cue up.  
  
"What are you doing the rest of your life  
  
North and South and East and West of your life  
  
I have only one request of your life  
  
That you spend it all with me"  
  
The only request she had of him was that he spent his life with her? Did she have any idea what she was saying?  
  
"All the seasons and the times of your days  
  
All the nickels and the dimes of your days  
  
Let the reasons and the rhymes of your days  
  
All begin and end with me"  
  
Draco had no idea what nickels or dimes might be, but he didn't care. Every season, every reason, every beginning and end and in between of every day he had left on earth, he wanted to spend with Hermione. Did this song mean... could it *possibly* mean that she felt the same way?  
  
"I want to see your face in every kind of light  
  
In the fields of dawn and the forests of the night"  
  
Draco bit back a groan as he remembered the nights he had spent with her in the abandoned shack they found just inside the edge of the Forbidden Forrest. They had made the place into their get-away during the second term of sixth year, before the blessed convenience of seventh year and a shared suite. He had adored making love to her on their robes-transfigured-into-a- bed and watching her face glow with ecstasy in the moonlight. And now that they lived together openly and unashamedly, he woke up early every morning so he could watch the way the sunrise lit up her hair, making her look like an angel as she slept securely in his arms. It was corny, of course, and ridiculously sentimental, but he didn't care.  
  
"And when you stand before the candles on a cake  
  
Oh, let me be the one to hear the silent wish you make"  
  
He'd never forget his seventeenth birthday, when Hermione surprised him with a party and a cake. He'd never had a birthday cake before. His parents claimed that it was a silly, muggle-derived habit, and always celebrated his birthday with a coldly formal dinner where the main tradition was the consumption of blood stew: a vile concoction that included his own blood as well as the blood of his parents to remind him of the obligations he owed to his blood and his birthright. You couldn't light candles on blood stew. They'd just sink into it, and extinguish themselves. As he blew out the seventeen candles on his birthday cake that year, and every year since, he had wished that his birthdays would ever after include cake and candles and Hermione.  
  
"Those tomorrows waiting deep in your eyes  
  
In the world of love that you keep in your eyes"  
  
Could she see the love in his eyes? He had so much trouble expressing it that he was afraid she had no idea just how very much he loved her.  
  
"I'll awaken what's asleep in your eyes  
  
It may take a kiss or two"  
  
Merlin knew he was in favor of any plan of Hermione's that included kisses. Kissing Hermione was quite possibly his favorite thing to do.  
  
"Through all of my life"  
  
How he hoped he'd be a part of it.  
  
"Summer, Winter, Spring, and Fall of my life"  
  
He never wanted to be without her again.  
  
"All I ever will recall of my life"  
  
She pulled the wireless microphone out of the microphone stand as she sang this line and descended off the stage, approaching Draco. Dazed and dazzled, he moved towards her, so that they met in the middle of the room, right as she sang the last line.  
  
"Is all of my life with you"  
  
The background music from the karaoke machine played a few more bars, then trailed off. With the microphone still held to her lips, Hermione spoke again.  
  
"Draco Malfoy, will you marry me?"  
  
Draco, for the first time in his life, was speechless. Mustering all his strength, poise, and self-possession that hadn't been completely wiped out by her question, he managed to pull himself together sufficiently to nod. Hermione handed the microphone over to Ginny who was standing conveniently close by, and threw herself into Draco's arms. Operating on instinct, he caught her and moved his lips against hers as she initiated a kiss. Gradually, his mind started to clear, and he held her tighter, kissed her harder, cradled her closer as he realized what had just happened. She was finally, truly, completely his. He was distracted from his bliss, however, when he felt her pull away from the kiss and start rummaging through his pockets, pulling out the velvet covered box with an exclamation of triumph.  
  
"Finally!" she said, her eyes dancing. "Everyone told me the ring was gorgeous, and I couldn't wait any longer to see it."  
  
"Everyone?" he repeated, confused. Then his eyes narrowed. "Everyone. And just who might everyone be?"  
  
"Well, Ron and Harry were the first to crack and admit that you had come to them to ask their permission. And after they 'fessed up, Mrs. Weasley and my mom told me about the ring you showed them. One they realized I already knew, everyone else chimed in, as well, and even Crookshanks has been throwing me smug looks. I'm guessing you asked his permission as well?"  
  
"Well," Draco stammered, blushing, "I just wanted to be sure that the people who matter most to you approved of the idea... approved of me. For you." His eyes narrowed again. "Of course, if I had known that they were just going to go blabbing to you, I might have been more discreet." He glared over at the table where Ron and Harry were seated. Wisely, the boys quickly struck up conversations with the people sitting around them pretending that they weren't avidly listening to every word being transmitted through the microphone Ginny was surreptitiously pointing in their direction.  
  
"They didn't blab, Draco. They just broke under cross-examination. I've been friends with them since we were eleven; of course I could tell when they had a secret, and of course I knew how to trick it out of them. They told me weeks ago that you were planning to propose and I've been waiting since then for you to pop the question. Tonight, I got sick of waiting. So," she concluded, handing the ring-box unopened back to him, "is there something you'd like to ask me?"  
  
Her eyes were sparkling with amusement and affection and unabridged love, and Draco felt all of his nervousness and apprehension melt away. With an exceedingly graceful flourish, he dropped to one knee and popped open the ring box, smirking in satisfaction at Hermione's gasp of appreciation at her first sight of the ring.  
  
"Hermione Granger, will you marry me?"  
  
Her smile in reply was blindingly brilliant as she pulled the ring out of the box. He took it back from her, grabbing hold of her hand and slipping the ring onto her finger. He rose to his feet and grinned as she slipped her arms around his neck and tried to pull him in for a kiss. He resisted.  
  
"Does that mean your answer is yes?" he teased. She grinned.  
  
"Yes," she answered, placing a soft kiss on his lips, oblivious to the bursts of applause from the rest of the room, focusing only on Draco as she stared into his eyes and answered again. "Yes."  
  
THE END 


End file.
